


Of Camp Fires and Bear Attacks

by as_with_a_sunbeam



Category: 19th Century CE RPF, Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Camping, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Summer 1801, The Grange - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-27
Updated: 2019-05-27
Packaged: 2020-03-20 08:29:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18988999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/as_with_a_sunbeam/pseuds/as_with_a_sunbeam
Summary: Summer 1801. While the Grange is being built, the Hamiltons take a camping trip to oversee the construction and enjoy the riverside air. There's fishing, stories around the camp fire, and, of course, the odd bear or two.__Just some fun, sweet Hamilton family fluff





	Of Camp Fires and Bear Attacks

**Summer 1801**

Eliza leaned back on her hands to watch the bright blue sky turn to a hazy purple. The breeze kept the worst of the summer heat bearable, rustling the light cotton of her dress and the blanket she spread out over the sand. Alexander’s arms wound around her torso from behind, squeezing her tight. She smiled, turning her head to the side as his lips found her neck.

“Papa! Papa, watch!” William shouted. “Watch me!”

Alexander made a contented sound deep in his throat and nuzzled her.

“Papa!” William insisted.

“Are these all right, Papa?” Johnny asked from the other direction, struggling with a bundle of sticks. “Jamie’s bringing more.”

“Put them over here, away from the water,” Alexander said, releasing her from the embrace to gesture towards the pit he’d constructed for their fire.

“Papa!”

“I’m watching, Billy,” he called.

William attempted a somersault on the soft sand near the water, but ended up in the river when he turned sideways. He stood up and held his arms overhead triumphantly, as thought he’d intended to soak himself all along. She heard Alexander squelch a laugh.

“Very good, son.”

Eliza noticed Johnny fumbling with the tinderbox. “Johnny,” she said, rocking forward to stand.

“I’ve got it,” Alexander said, already on his feet and moving to assist with the fire building. He’d been on top of everything all day, she considered, as he rushed over to their ten year old. He seemed to be delighting in the simple joys of parenting.

“Tent’s up,” Pip reported, skidding down the hill behind them with Alex and Angelica in tow.

Camping had been Alexander’s idea. The Grange, though beautiful on paper, was little more than a wooden frame, and the farmhouse nearby was cramped and stuffy. So, to enjoy the land and oversee the construction, he’d suggested pitching a tent for a week. They’d all been thrilled at the notion, the older children included, right up until Alexander had set them to work assembling the tent.

“Took you long enough,” Alexander teased. “At your age, I could get a tent up all on my own in ten minutes flat.”

“I think you were a little more in practice, what with the war and all,” Pip replied as he plonked down onto the blanket beside her. “Hi, Mama.”  

“Hi, honey,” she said. When he leaned against her, his head resting on her shoulder, she kissed the crown of his head and ran a hand down his back. Her sweet, darling boy.

A spark from the tinderbox caught on the kindling. Alexander nudged Johnny back a little as he fed the fire, keeping the blaze contained and tidy. The smoky smell mingled with the salt air on the breeze. “There now. We’ll be able to start cooking soon.”

“What are we cooking?” Johnny asked.

“Fish, of course. We spent all that time catching them. We wouldn’t want to waste them, now, would we?”

After spending the morning measuring out pathways for their would-be gardens, Alexander had piled the whole family into a fishing boat. She hadn’t been fishing since she was a girl, but he’d patiently refreshed her on the finer points of casting off, Johnny and William listening closely at his knee. She’d picked it up without much difficulty. In fact, she’d ended up catching four fish to his two. 

“Good thing we have Mama to provide for us,” he’d joked good naturedly after fumbling a striped bass over the side of the boat back into the water.

“Fish?” William paused from shaking his hair out like a dog to fix his father with a skeptical look. “That’s all?”

“That's all?” Alexander repeated, comically scandalized. “What more could you want?”

“I have some crackers, cheese, and fruit,” she assured the boy, having anticipated some fussiness from the little ones over the menu.  

“I bet you were happy to get fish when you were in the army, Papa,” Pip said pointedly, sitting up and sending her a wink. She smiled at how well Pip knew his little brother. William adored Alexander’s war stories, and he’d seize any chance to be like his father.

“Yeah?” William asked, interest piqued.  

Alexander grinned at the ploy. “Oh, yes. We’d be ecstatic to have some fresh fish. Much better than army rations. Meat jerky and mealy biscuits can only satisfy you for so long.”

“Mealy biscuits?” Eliza asked with a laugh. Serving under General Washington, he’d just as often enjoyed fine wines and delicacies as army rations.  “Did you suffer from the scurvy, too, sailor?”

“Maybe,” he parried, pulling a face at her playfully.

Little Eliza toddled by, clutching something in her tiny fist. Eliza reached out to catch her shirt. “Sweetie, what do you have?”

“No.” Her new favorite word.

Prying the little fist open, she saw three twigs. “Are you helping collect sticks for the fire, honey?”

“No.”

She chuckled and freed her daughter to continue on.  “Alexander, incoming.”

He turned and held his arms out, lifting little Eliza high up into the air and producing a delighted squeal. The twigs tumbled back onto the sand, unmissed. The girl settled happily onto Alexander’s hip as he went about preparing supper. He assigned the little ones simple tasks to make them feel useful while he sliced the fish into filets and cooked them in the little traveling pan on the metal rack he’d placed over the fire.

The children did an admirable job on the fish he handed out, more for the novelty than the taste, she suspected. When they’d all finished, they laid back on the sand to watch the stars, the fire crackling merrily nearby. Eliza held their little daughter in her arms, the girl already fast asleep. William snuggled into Alexander’s side, and predictably demanded, “Tell a story, Papa.”

“Hm,” Alexander hummed, pondering over his memories. “How about the time General Washington ordered us across the Delaware?”

“Is that when you blasted off the King’s head with a cannon ball?” Johnny asked eagerly.

“That was just a portrait, Johnny,” he said with a chuckle. “And it was at Princeton, a little bit after Trenton.”

“I want to hear about blasting off the King’s head!” William demanded.

“I’ll get there,” he promised. “Well, it was freezing cold night in December when the order came down that we were to move our artillery down to the gunboats. The river was filled with ice, chunks so thick you could barely row through. We had to move quick and quiet as possible, so as not to warn the enemy of our advance.”

The children all listened with rapt attention as he related stories of marching through snow, surprising Hessians still sleeping off their Christmas cups, and then later, firing artillery into the College of New Jersey, beheading the image of King George in the effort. “And the Demos call me an Anglophile,” he noted wryly. “I’d like to know if Jefferson ever beheaded King George.”

Eliza noticed Jamie give a huge yawn. “I think it’s time for bed,” she said, nudging at Alexander with her foot. “It’s getting late.”

“Bed sounds like a good idea,” he agreed, yawning himself. “Come on, up we get.”

After encouraging all the children to stand, Alexander kicked sand over the dwindling fire and collected the blanket. They herded the sleepy children back up the hill towards the tent. She lit a lantern as they all dressed for bed and fought over space in the mounds of blankets arrayed on the tent floor.

“Uh-uh,” Alexander tutted when William tried to curl up on the stuffed pallet towards the back of the tent. “That’s for me and Mama.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m too old to sleep on the ground. And I like to hug Mama while I sleep.”

William scooted over grudgingly.

“I heard something,” Johnny said, pressing his face against the canvas as though he could see through. “I think something’s outside.”

“Probably a squirrel or a bird,” Alexander dismissed.

“It’s sounds bigger than a squirrel,” Johnny insisted.

Jamie sat up. “Maybe it’s a bear!”

“I want to see the bear,” William said, bouncing up with sudden energy.

“It’s not a bear,” Eliza said, though she shot Alexander a concerned look. The woods were close by. Could there be a bear?

Meeting her eye, he sighed. “I’ll take a look.”

“I’ll come,” Pip offered.

He slipped through the tent folds with Pip close on his heels, and she belatedly wondered what exactly they would do if they did find a bear hunting around their camp site. They both wore only a nightshirt, and they hadn’t brought the hunting rifle or any other kind of weapon for defense. Waiting tensely, she listened right along with the children.

She heard them whispering outside, voices muffled as they moved around the tent.

“What’s that?” she heard Alexander ask in a loud whisper.

Pip let out a shout as something barreled into the back of the tent, swiping at the canvas. Startled, she jumped back, then realized the roar was most definitely coming from her husband. She groaned even as she smiled. He thought he was so funny.

“Bear!” Johnny shouted, all too happy to play along.

Pip yelled from the side of the tent, “I think there’s another one!” He then let out a roar of his own and began swiping and rattling the tent from the side.

William squealed in delight at the game as he raced around, trampling over Jamie and Alex as he went.

Alex gave a great “oomf” as William pressed a knee into his stomach. “Get off.”

“It’s only Papa and Pip,” Angelica said, voice tinged with the disinterest of a teenager, though Eliza could see amusement dancing in her eyes.  

Little Eliza had woken at all the noise and commotion, and she watched with one eye open as William barreled into the tent where Pip was playfully swiping, shouting, “Bears!”

Crawling over to where Alexander was roaring, the little girl pushed herself up and took a run at the tent, pushing out with her hands. Eliza heard Alexander stumble backwards a step, laugh, then lower himself to push at the tent closer to little Eliza’s level. In a low, gravelly voice, he proclaimed, “I’m going to get you!”

Little Eliza giggled and looked back at her, grinning. Pointing at the tent, she said, “Papa!”

“Yep, that’s him. Your Papa’s silly, huh?”

She clapped happily and pushed back on the tent again.

At last, Pip and Alexander moved around to the front and stepped back inside.

“That was scary,” Pip said, grinning. “Those were some massive bears. I think we scared them off though, right Papa?”

“I don’t think they’ll come back any time soon,” Alexander agreed.

“You’re not funny,” Eliza scolded, though she couldn’t seem to wipe away the smile on her face. “You almost gave me a heart attack.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Alexander said.

Little Eliza let out a tiny little roar and charged at him, still playing.

“Oh no, a bear cub!” Alexander cried, kneeling down to play with her. “How did a bear cub get in here?”

Eliza watched fondly as William jumped on his back to wrestle him, the three falling into a jumbled heap on the blankets. She plunged herself willingly into the mass of blankets and wriggling babies, tickling William until they could hardly breathe from laughing. Johnny dove in as well, followed quickly by Pip and Jamie, and finally Alex and Angelica.

Later, as she laid curled beside her husband on the stuffed pallet, she gently pressed her lips to his, heart close to bursting with affection for him. He responded lazily, not quite awake, and gave a sleepy sigh. She whispered softly in his ear, “I adore you.”

**Author's Note:**

> The Hamilton's actually did take a camping trip at one point while the Grange was being constructed. In John Church Hamilton's biography of his father, he relates the following anecdote that's always struck me as overwhelmingly sweet: "[D]uring the erection of [Hamilton's] rural dwelling, he caused a tent to be pitched and camp-stools to be placed under the shading trees. He measured distances, as though measuring the frontage of the camp; and then, as he walked along, his step seemed to fall naturally into the cadenced pace of a practiced drill. It was his delight in his hours of relaxation to return to scenes and incidents of his early life, when he was fighting for this country, and praying for its protection." (Life of Alexander Hamilton, V. VII, p. 793). I was in the mood to write something sweet and fluffy, and this seemed like the perfect basis for just such a story. Also, Hamilton was known to be a prankster who hardily enjoyed giving his family a good scare, inspiring the pretend attack he cooked up with Pip :) 
> 
> Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed, and, as always, feedback is very much appreciated!!


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